All Your Memories of Here
by arainymonday
Summary: When Atlantis discovers an amazing new Ancient technology off world, they think it might be their best chance at defeating the Wraith. But when Sheppard's team and Carson gate to the planet, they are instantly trapped inside their own minds.
1. One

******DISCLAIMER: **I'm just playing in the Stargate sandbox. If you recognize it from elsewhere, I don't own it.  
**TIMELINE:** Season 2, after "The Tower"  
**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **The plot of this story was inspired by the book _There's No Place Like Here_ by Cecilia Ahern. I have changed it around quite extensively to make sense with Stargate canon and science. I have no Beta-reader so all mistakes are mine alone.

Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy _All Your Memories of Here_.

* * *

**All Your Memories of Here**

One

"Dr. Beckett, please report to the gate room."

Carson Beckett blinked sleepily as he registered that he'd fallen asleep at his desk again. Half the medical staff had been called in last night to patch up Colonel Sheppard's team, and after the necessary work was done, Rodney McKay had stayed for another two hours complaining about phantom ailments. A stack of files cascaded off Carson's desk as he fumbled for the light, and when it flickered to life he saw the floor carpeted with patient charts.

The final chevron locked just as Carson arrived in the control room. Elizabeth Weir leaned down to peer into the screen relaying the MALP telemetry. Sheppard and Rodney stood on either side of the Atlantis Expedition leader surveying the images with equal credulity.

"Carson," Elizabeth said, finally spotting the doctor lingering around the rim of working technicians and waiting marines. "We're reviewing the MALP data from M2A-797 again, and we could use a medical eye."

Carson rounded the computer terminals, and Sheppard moved back to allow him space in front of the central screen. The room on the other side of the wormhole looked like slate decorated with elaborate etchings not unlike the symbols on Pegasus Stargates. A stark obelisk like an admonishing finger stood erect in the center of the room. But that was not why Carson has been called to the control room. In fact, the doctor barely registered the strangely austere décor.

Twenty or thirty people clustered around the obelisk. Some of them sat in full lotus meditation, but most of them lay on the ground in a jumble of oddly angled limbs. It appeared as though they had all once managed the lotus posture, but had since fallen over onto their sides and backs or slumped forward with foreheads on the floor.

Carson had read research on Buddhist monks who meditated for days outside in the harsh Himalayan winter. Even wearing only their robes, the monks miraculously survived. Their body temperatures actually rose to a point where the snow around them melted. The scene in front of him, however, was completely different. The meditating figures were alive, but their fallen counterparts were not. There were no visible signs of mortification; the fallen bodies were perfectly preserved. Carson was a doctor, however, and he had studied the human form enough to know how a body settled postmortem.

"Some of them are alive. I would guess they're in a deep meditative state and unaware of their surroundings."

"Initial MALP readings are confirmed," Rodney announced. "There's nothing in that room. No toxins, no radiation. Also, no oxygen and no gravity."

"Then both MALPs are malfunctioning, Rodney," Sheppard replied, "because there are people in that room, and their blood hasn't boiled out of their bodies. And in case you missed it, they're sitting on the floor."

"I'm just telling you what the MALP sensors say," the physicist groused.

"This room, whatever it is, was built by the Ancients. It's definitely their architecture. Rodney, is it possible that this room is made of a material that blocks some of our technology, particularly the sensors?" Elizabeth inquired.

"Ancient technology so far outstrips ours that anything is possible."

Elizabeth was quiet for a moment, and then she nodded to Sheppard. "The implications of this are tempting. If this room has some kind of advanced shielding technology, and we can integrate it into the city systems, we could cloak and shield at the same time. It could be invaluable in fighting the Wraith."

"Elizabeth," Carson said, "those people, they can't just be shaken awake. It could cause severe physical and mental trauma. With your permission, I'd like to go with Colonel Sheppard's team to stabilize them. And to see what I can do for the deceased."

She nodded slowly, her eyes moving back to the video. "We dialed M2A-797 five hours ago. No one has moved an inch. I don't understand. How do twenty of your friends fall over dead and you not notice it?"

"It's not unheard of for highly trained monks to meditate for days, but I've never heard of case like this. I think even the Dalai Lama would be startled by the unstable vortex of a wormhole."

"Unless they're so used to it, it's like background noise," Sheppard commented.

"Yeah, maybe, but that's not exactly intuitive either," Rodney said. "I mean, we've explored two galaxies now. Have we met anyone uninterested in an active Stargate? Even the Ancients probably got a little curious when someone dialed in."

"Then let's go to the planet and figure it out," Sheppard said pointedly. "I think you missed the part where Elizabeth told us to get ready to move out."

"She didn't say that!"

"She implied it. Now, stop playing with the MALP and get suited up."

Sheppard made his way down the stairs and towards the armory. As he left, Carson heard him calling Teyla and Ronon on the radio. Rodney hurried after, but not out of any desire to get on with the mission.

"I wasn't playing with the MALP!" the scientist protested.

Carson and Elizabeth exchanged matching looks before the doctor trailed after them. It was never a dull day when Sheppard and Rodney were in full swing. Carson managed to take it all in stride, and sometimes, he even found their brotherly bickering good entertainment. The mystery beyond the Stargate was grim, however, and he knew no one would be exchanging quips on the other side.

The back-and-forth continued through the mission prep all the way up until Sheppard's team and Carson were standing in front of the Stargate. The last thing the doctor heard before stepping into the wormhole was Rodney's voice, somewhat muffled by the airtight helmet, taking one last jab at Sheppard.

"It's too bad we can't take a puddle jumper on this mission. I hate to deprive you the opportunity to crash land."

And then they were gone. Carson was swallowed by the wormhole, and an instant later, he rematerialized in the Ancient room.

For a moment, everything was exactly as it had appeared on the monitor back in Atlantis: the slate walls, the room full of people, and the obelisk. To his left, Teyla and Ronon were standing on the bottom steps of the Stargate platform. He heard Sheppard and Rodney come through the Stargate behind him.

And then it all changed.

The corners of the dark grey room rippled. Like a dusty sheet pulled off abandoned furniture, the slate walls flew away from Carson to reveal a natural landscape of mossy rocks and roaring steely sea. Everything that had been there a moment before was gone. There was no obelisk, no meditating natives, no Ronon and Teyla, no DHD. Carson turned, but trepidation slowed his movements. It was several moments before he dared to glance behind. When he did, his heart lurched.

The Stargate had vanished.


	2. Two

**All Your Memories of Here**

Two

The landscape evoked tranquility, but his mind would not accept the calming effect. Carson's brow furrowed at the warring nature within his own body. His scientific and medical training told him to take deep breaths and think rationally, but more primal instincts caused his heart rate to increase and adrenaline to pump into his limbs.

_So this is what a panic attack feels like_, he thought.

The deadpan voice in his head was barely enough to quiet his anxiety. He had been in dire situations before, he reminded himself. He forced himself to remember: uncontrolled drones in Antarctica, an infirmary full of dying Hoffans, a Wraith tracking device next to the spine. His breaths came more evenly now, and he was able to think.

"You're a scientist, Carson," he chided himself, "try the scientific method."

_Ask a question_.

"What the bloody hell happened?"

_Do background research_.

That was going to be difficult without the room they had gated into, but as a doctor he did this kind of research every day. When an airmen or marine got shot, he didn't get to see the gun, but he could figure out exactly what had happened by observing his patient.

With his mind focused now, the information began flooding in. He stood on the ridge of a long, sloping green hillock pockmarked with mossy gray boulders. Away to the north, a cluster of brown homes wound themselves along the main road that could have accommodated no more than one car at a time. A coastline weaved around the hilly land far as Carson could see, and he realized he was standing on an island in a steely gray sea, or perhaps it was only a loch. Heavy wind buffeted the water, making it appear more furious than it was.

Away in the distance, white spots meandered over a small hillock. Carson squinted against the rising sun. Just as he'd talked himself down from the idea, he heard the familiar bleating _baa_ of the flock.

"No. Impossible." A memory he'd lost long ago surfaced. He was eight-years-old and standing on this very hill looking down at the village while his father bandaged an ankle sprained on the afternoon hike. "Castlebay … Isle of Barra … _Scotland_."

Rooted to the spot, Carson could do little but gape at the isle laid out before him for many minutes.

_Construct hypothesis_.

Carson considered what he knew of the Stargate itself—not much, admittedly—and the mission reports he'd read from the Atlantis teams. He had also read a few of the more infamous SG-1 reports prior to coming to Atlantis.

"The Ancient device transported me to Scotland."

Carson considered it. Almost every advanced alien race had some kind of transportation system besides the Stargate—beams, rings, stones. The distance was too great between M2A-797 and Earth for anything but Ancient communication stones.

"Still in my own body," Carson observed.

The Ancients made the Stargates and the communication stones. Why not something else too? Something was clawing at the back of his mind, some piece of evidence that didn't add up to this conclusion.

Unfortunately, that was as far as the scientific method would take him for the moment. Testing and analysis would come later, he hoped. For now, he would accept that the Ancient device transported him _home_—well, almost, Glasgow was a ways southeast—and be happy. Confused, but happy.

Now confident that the air wasn't toxic or nonexistent here, Carson removed the helmet of his suit. He inhaled deeply, letting the smells of his homeland fill his senses. He'd been living on the ocean for so long he'd forgotten what earth smelled like. The mustiness of it mingled with the salty water in the bay. It recalled the infrequent trips to the Athosians on Lantea's mainland.

"Right. Enough reminiscing, Carson."

Once free of the orange hazmat suit, Carson began picking his way down the craggy hill. If he was transported home, then likely so were Rodney and Colonel Sheppard. He hoped Teyla was all right back on Athos. And Ronon, with his world in ruins all around him. For now, he needed to get to a telephone so the SGC could beam him to Cheyenne Mountain.

Castlebay was as his foggy memory recalled it: small and quaint. Carson didn't pass many people on the way down the main street, but those few he did meet greeted him as if they were old friends.

"Excuse me, is there a phone box nearby?"

The wizened old man, who had previously been beaming and clapping Carson on the back, paused and narrowed his eyes suspiciously. It was as if Carson had accidentally asked for the Stargate. The man seemed at a total loss, but Carson knew there was a phone box in Castlebay. It stood alone on a green field of grass, like a piece of modernity plunked down in the wilds by aliens who didn't understand its purpose. He remembered pointing it out to his father, and then laughing raucously together.

"Try the pub. Fifth on the left."

Carson left the gentleman, still puzzling over his apparent ignorance of telephones. The Outer Hebrides were isolated, but not _that_ much. A man laughed boisterously. Curious, Carson turned around, but saw that he was alone now. The laugh came again, and this time it chilled him to the bone.

He knew that laugh, but he hadn't heard it in going on a decade now. The last time Carson had heard his father laugh, he'd been lying in a hospital bed, assuring his wife and children that everything would be fine. Two days later, he'd passed away.

A chill raced up his spine that had nothing to do with the high wind. The joy of thinking he was home in Scotland had vanished now. Literally hearing the laughter of the deceased was a sign that something had gone off the rails. Carson ducked his head and jogged towards the pub. Diagnoses filled his head—sudden psychotic break, stress-related hallucinations, and even more terrifying possibilities that were not his realm of expertise at all.

Carson yanked open the pub door. He was immediately greeted with such a warm friendliness that he did a double take, but he didn't know the barkeeper. "All right?"

He ordered a double even though he didn't normally imbibe alcohol. If he was suffering a mental imbalance or side effects of alien technology, he deserved one more happy hour before the antipsychotics and white rooms made it impossible. It was a cliché to say that crazy people didn't know they were crazy, but then most people hadn't diagnosed mental illness before.

While he waited, Carson glanced around the pub. He wondered if the people here were even real or if this was all in his head. His eyes locked onto a figure seated alone at a table in the center of the room, and his breath caught. The young woman was wearing an Atlantis uniform! What was her name? They'd met once, he thought. Carson could hear Radek introducing Chuck at the same time.

"Amelia!" Carson exclaimed, at the same time the barkeeper said, "Here you are, lad."

When Carson turned to call for Amelia again, the table she had occupied was now curiously empty. His eyes search frantically, but there was no sign of the woman now. She had vanished as completely as the Stargate.


	3. Three

**All Your Memories of Here**

Three

Carson lowered himself into one of the chairs, frowning and worried. The evidence was now strongly disproving his first theory about what had gone wrong on M2A-797. If he had been transported home, then why had Amelia Banks turned up here too? She hadn't been on the planet. It was possible the effects had travelled back through the Stargate, but why not the first two times they dialed in? As far as he could remember, Amelia wasn't Scottish anyway. And why had she disappeared the moment he remembered her name?

Carson sat alone at the empty table for no more than a few minutes. Another woman, equally young as Amelia, but in plain clothes, approached nervously. Carson felt immediately at ease in her company, despite her own obvious discomfort. This turn of events seemed slightly less bizarre when she took the seat opposite him and smiled hesitantly. Maybe it was his ingrained bedside manner kicking in. She had a regional American accent, similar to Colonel O'Neill's Chicagoan.

"Dr. Beckett, it's good to see you again."

Carson faltered. "Again?"

"You don't remember me."

It wasn't a question, but Carson felt compelled to answer nonetheless. "I'm sorry, love, but I'm afraid I don't."

"It's okay, Dr. Beckett. We only worked together for a few weeks, and I was just one resident in the crowd of faces covered in scrub masks. My name is Jennifer Keller."

Carson tried to picture this young woman in blue surgical garb. Her brown eyes were bright and warm. He had the impression there was nowhere else she'd rather be than sitting here, across from a man who didn't know her. He had seen too many young residents covered in sterile caps and masks. The name triggered some faint recollection, though he couldn't exactly place it.

"I am sorry, Dr. Keller."

"Call me Jennifer."

"If you'll call me Carson." She nodded, and he continued. "My mind is elsewhere. I'm having a very strange day. I'm not exactly sure how I ended up here, or where _here_ is exactly. But wherever I am, I know it's not really Scotland."

Jennifer's eyes darted around the room. "No, of course it's not."

That brought Carson up short. He didn't know what to make of the statement. Like everything else that had happened today, it came from left field and caught him off guard. Jennifer seemed to be waiting patiently for him to say something else.

"Right. Well, then if you could direct me to the Stargate …"

The young woman laughed lightly. "There's no Stargate in Scotland, Carson. You know that."

"But – but you said we're not in Scotland."

"We're not."

Carson was not a man to get agitated easily, but the events of today were stretching him to his breaking point. He exhaled deeply and closed his eyes. Ten counts later, he opened them to find Jennifer regarding him curiously. She wore the same look he had given to patients who took their first steps after a surgery.

"Okay … so where are we?"

"We're _here_."

Carson began to reply, but stopped himself. Anger and panic never helped solve problems. He'd learned that in his very first operating theater. He needed to think, not speak. Theories piled up in his mind, each one more outlandish than the last. He was sure that Rodney would have the answer, if only he could talk to Rodney. Somehow, he didn't think the ancient rotary phone affixed to the wall could connect him to his best friend.

While he had not specialized in psychiatry, Carson knew exactly how realistic hallucinations could be to the people experiencing them. Maybe the Ancient device released some kind of multiple sensory hallucinogenic into the atmosphere. They certainly had the knowledge for it.

But why was he experiencing this particular hallucination? Psychotic episodes were typically farfetched fantasy worlds or paranoid dystopias. He didn't feel superhuman or imminent danger. He simply felt … _here_. It didn't seem to Carson a very effective hallucinogenic if it allowed the victim to sit around reflecting on the hallucination.

"I'm out of my depth here. I don't know what happened. Can I ask how you got here?"

"I've been here for three years, but I was hidden until you came to The Atrium."

Carson blinked and tried to decide which of his many questions to ask first. "Three years?"

"That's when we met. Three years ago, you came to America to do research with Dr. Holybrook on a new gene therapy."

He recalled her now, the cheeky young doctor in the gaggle of scrubbed residents who challenged his research. Dr. Holybrook had taken it as an insult, but Carson was quite impressed such a young thing would have the courage to stand up to her attending.

"You've been _here_ since we met?"

Jennifer regarded Carson with those intelligent eyes as the truth washed over him. His breath stopped, and surges of hot and cold raced through his nerves. Despite hours of forced calm, true panic seized him now.

Childhood holidays to the Western Isles had faded. Once familiar laughter had grown foreign. His eyes searched every face in the pub – primary school friends, former colleagues, distant relations. All people he had known and forgotten. As he placed each of them, they vanished in a rippling cloud of grey, just as the walls of M2A-797 had done.

"Oh, my God. Everything I've forgotten … it's all _here_."


	4. Four

**All Your Memories of Here**

Four

"Come on," Jennifer said, taking Carson's arm firmly. "Let's get you some fresh air."

Outside the pub, Carson leaned against the wall, sucking in gasps of chilly air. Jennifer hovered at a distance, nearby if he needed her, but not close enough to suffocate him. Carson's mind had stopped trying to rationalize. For the moment, he only wanted to calm his racing heart and endocrine system.

As he looked around, more of Castlebay disappeared in that dusty haze. Each building he placed from his childhood explorations was gone in an instant. More unsettling to Carson were the people in the street who did not fly off in a streak of blurry gray. He prided himself on genuinely caring about people, and yet here was proof that he hadn't cared enough to remember everyone.

After several moments, Jennifer pressed two fingers to Carson's wrist as she looked at her watch. A little smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

"So I see you've become a consummate doctor."

"I'll take that as a compliment. You need to lie down and rest for awhile. There's a guest house not far from here. I think you can make it."

"Aye. If I can travel through the Stargate and survive the Wraith, I think I can manage a few blocks."

Jennifer led the way down the edge of a muddy side street that wrapped around the bay. There were few other people here that Carson could see, and he was happy for a reprieve from all the faces he had forgotten.

"You said something in the pub about an atrium."

"The Atrium," Jennifer said, "It's what you call M2A-797. The Ancients built is as an entrance."

"To where?"

"_Here_."

Carson chuckled. "Not to sound rude, love, but your answers are even more confusing than Rodney's technical explanations. Anyway, you seem to know a lot about The Atrium."

"Well, I was created by The Atrium from your forgotten memory. I'm a sort of … guide."

"And is that why you didn't disappear when I remembered you?"

Jennifer nodded. They walked in silence for awhile. Carson peered at the majestic Scottish landscape around him and wondered how he'd ever forgotten any of this. He supposed he couldn't remember every blade of grass and molecule of water, but to have lost whole vistas altogether …

"Here's a question. I know I'm in Castlebay, so why hasn't it vanished too?"

Jennifer motioned to the water, and Carson was stunned to find it empty. Kisimul Castle was gone. All the grass, water, and rocks he had forgotten had rearranged themselves into another scene lost to Carson's memory. He sighed and didn't try to figure out where they were now. As he understood the Ancient device, it didn't matter where he thought he was. He was standing in the room on M2A-797.

"Nothing can exist here unless you have forgotten it," Jennifer explained. "The Atrium won't allow your mind to see anything you remember. Present company excluded."

Carson paused to gaze out across the bay. He crossed his arms over his chest and let the frown lines settle onto his face. It was just like the Ancients to build something mad like this. They couldn't stop inventing, experimenting. Humans were so similar, so curious.

"How do I get back, Jennifer? There are people depending on me. I have to go home, to Atlantis."

"Nothing can exist here if you haven't forgotten it," Jennifer repeated.

"If I forget Atlantis—unlikely, I might add—it would show up here? But even if it did, it would trigger my memory and disappear. Then … there's no way out? There's no way home? I'm sorry, but I don't buy that."

The Ancients wouldn't build a device that imprisoned them in their own minds. Would they? Carson thought about the meditating natives seated around the obelisk. Who were they? And why had they willingly—that's what the lotus pose suggested, anyway—sat down in front of the obelisk?

"There is always a means of escape, but it is never backwards."

"I think Colonel Sheppard would take issue with that logic. He's ordered me to turn around and go back plenty of times."

They started walking again, Jennifer still in the lead. The guest house she had referred to was a snug bungalow situated on a narrow isthmus into the bay. The red paint was chipped and peeling in some places, but the fresh flower beds gave the impression of a house well-tended.

Carson followed Jennifer into the small home and glanced around. The house was a jumble. It looked like someone had lifted up the house, shaken it around a bit, and set it down again. Everything was mismatched and in the wrong place. There were recliners at the kitchen table and bed sheets hanging over the windows.

"Interesting decorations."

There was something eerily familiar about this place, but he couldn't put his finger on it. With a resigned sigh, he realized it was probably full of furniture and mementos that he had seen or owned and forgotten. He spotted a battered copy of _Gray's Anatomy_ before it vanished from the bookshelf in the kitchen.

"What am I supposed to do now?" Carson asked, with a sigh in his voice.

Jennifer offered a sympathetic smile. "Whatever it is you normally do."

"Normally, I save lives in the Atlantis infirmary."

"If you're lucky, you'll have forgotten a hospital and some of your patients." Carson blanched. "I'll come back tomorrow, and we'll look around together. Maybe we can both do some good here. For now, though, I really do want you to rest."

Carson allowed himself to be corralled onto the couch and let Jennifer check his pulse again. He had calmed down considerably, and he accepted that he had stumbled onto this mad Ancient technology, but he wasn't going to sit around and do nothing. There had to be a way to leave here.

"I should treat patients that are only in my head? Well, honestly, I've done stranger things in the past two years. I'll see you tomorrow morning."

After Jennifer left—where she went, he didn't know or ask—Carson took a seat on the porch railing and watched the sunset cast red flames over the choppy waters in the bay. As the shadows deepened around him, a name popped into his head: _Applecross_.

The grass and water and rocks he had forgotten rearranged themselves into yet another vista lost to memory. He was surrounded by towering mountains now with no sign of water anywhere, but the sun continued sinking. With a sigh, Carson trotted back into the house.


	5. Five

**All Your Memories of Here**

Five

In the bright light of day, Carson observed that the village was as jumbled as the guest house. Jennifer led the way again, passing by Scottish stores, American diners, and Athosian trading posts without a second glance at the disorder. Perhaps strangest of all were the street signs. Where one stop sign would do, there were nine attached to the same pole.

People, buildings, pets, and even one rosebush disappeared the moment they entered his line of sight. Smells flooded the air like heavy perfume, and sounds disturbed the relative quiet at random intervals. The smells dissipated rather quickly, but sometimes the sounds followed Carson for blocks.

"Oh, look!" Jennifer cried, "There's another hospital."

She sounded like this was a game, a scavenger hunt of some kind. Carson supposed it was, only for him it was within his own memories. Whether technologically created or not, medically speaking, he was hallucinating.

"It's not disappearing. You must not remember it. Let's go see if they need two more doctors today. I hope they do. I'd love to scrub in on a surgery with you."

"Love, I doubt my own memories are going to deny us permission," Carson said, with only the barest hint of laughter in his voice.

"You sound amused."

"Yes, I supposed I am. But what else can I do? If there's no foreseeable way out of … _here_, then I might as well play along. But I am flattered by the compliment."

The facility wasn't a hospital as much as it was an aid station. Carson assumed it was one of the many he had set up in the Pegasus galaxy, but he didn't strain his memory to figure out which one. The patients within were as eclectic as everything here. They came from two galaxies with such a variety of maladies that Carson was sure he couldn't have forgotten enough doses of medicine to treat them all.

"Shall we begin?"

Jennifer assisted in the sutras, immunizations, and tests. She was his only constant companion in the ever shifting place known as _here_. The doctors were midway through cauterizing a wound when Carson brought up the subject of The Atrium again.

"I've been thinking about The Atrium." Jennifer didn't say anything, so he went on. "It doesn't seem like a weapon or a defense against the Wraith. I've been trying to figure out its purpose. If I know what it does, maybe I'll be able to leave here."

"But you know its purpose, Carson. It makes you remember what you've forgotten, and it blocks what you remember from materializing."

Carson looked up sharply at the other doctor. "Oh, come now, Jennifer. You don't get to be such a good doctor, and especially not at your age, by taking anything at face value. That's what The Atrium does, but why?"

Jennifer wrapped gauze around the patient's leg. "So you have a theory?"

"Aye, I do. I've been on Atlantis for so long fighting the Wraith using Ancient weapons and defenses. They've become soldier-scientists to us, but they're more than that. They were fighting for their lives,yes, but really, they wanted to ascend. I think that's why they built The Atrium. It literally forces you to forget—to lay down your burden.

"I think the people we saw meditating were Ancients. That's why they gathered around the obelisk and then turned it on. Some of them managed to ascend, and some of them are still trying. Others gave up."

When he looked up, Jennifer was nodding. "Yes, that is its purpose. And now you know what you have to do to leave."

"Ascend? Oh, I don't … Jennifer, if those are Ancients still trying to ascend … I'll be here forever." Carson sighed deeply. "At least there's some kind of artificial life support keeping my body in tact until I find another way."

"Carson, there is no other way. You must forget; you must leave behind your previous life and search for a new path."

"And what if I don't want to? I read all about the Ancients and their rules before I came to Atlantis. As amazing as it sounds to exist as pure energy, I don't want to. I've dedicated my entire life to helping people, and the Ancients don't allow that at all. I'm sorry, Jennifer, but even if I could ascend, I wouldn't."

Jennifer smiled sadly. "Carson, everyone has to move on sometime."

"Aye, and when my times comes, I hope to face my death with dignity, doing something meaningful for my world. But I won't try to forget my friends and family so that I can live as energy only observing the universe."

"And you think your friends are trying to escape too?"

Carson laughed. "Oh, I'm sure of it. Rodney is trying to invent an anti-Ancient technology, and Colonel Sheppard's got some kind of aircraft and weapon by now. Ronon will put the fear of God into anyone trying to stop him from getting back into the fight against the Wraith. Teyla, blessed the lass, is probably trying to reason with her guide, but she's not above knocking him about if she must."

Jennifer motioned the next patient over, but the little boy disappeared when Carson recognized the Athosian child. A teenage girl with a broken arm took his place instead.

"The point is," Carson said, "one of us will find a way out, and we'll rescue the others."

Jennifer and Carson worked a few more hours before leaving the aid station. They had every intention of coming back in the morning. Memories or not, they were patients that needed healing.

"Carson, you know I'm not really Jennifer Keller."

"Aye, I figured as much. I didn't really get to know Jennifer well. How could you exist with a personality and medical skills in my head? Can I ask who you are?"

"I'm an artificial intelligence system designed by an Ancient called Janus." She paused to let Carson say—"Ah, him again"—before continuing. "My purpose was to study ascension with a control group, the people you saw meditating around the obelisk. They were volunteers. It was never my purpose or Janus's intention to trap anyone here unwillingly."

"Does that mean you'll help me find a way to leave?"

"My programming wasn't designed for that, but it also wasn't designed to prevent you from trying. If you wish to leave, I sincerely hope you find a way."

"So do I." Carson smiled wryly. "If for no other reason than to go home and meet the real Jennifer Keller again."


	6. Six

**All Your Memories of Here**

Six

When Carson returned to the guest house, he noticed that several items had disappeared and been replaced while he was gone. After just two days here, he was becoming accustomed to the ever-changing nature of this place.

Part of him worried, though, about what would happen when he had remembered everything he'd previously forgotten. The human brain was a fascinating organ, but the memory centers weren't completely understood yet. That he would begin forgetting even the most important parts of his life was a given. It was a biological process, and sheer force of will couldn't contradict neuroscience.

With so many memories purged, would he still be Carson Beckett?

"Not that I plan to stay here that long."

He brought a hand up to his face and rubbed away the weariness and worry. He needed a clear head to think, to plan. Everyone on Atlantis would be brainstorming, but Carson secretly feared that there would be no brilliant rescue plan with Rodney caught in the same accidental trap. He wouldn't ever admit to his best friend exactly how highly esteemed he was; the man's ego didn't need to get any bigger.

Carson crossed to the bookshelf and ran his fingers over the spines. Some were battered and torn, but others were crisp and new. His hope was that he'd forgotten an undergraduate physics book or two. He had performed experimental surgeries, discovered the ATA gene and therapy, and created a retrovirus to rewrite Wraith DNA. He could learn enough theoretical physics to find a way out of here.

He found a student guide to Maxwell equations and pulled it from the shelf. Carson didn't know what Maxwell equations were or if they would help—proof that he'd completely forgotten this textbook—but it was worth the effort. He took a seat in a worn leather armchair and opened the book.

"What the …"

As Carson read, words flew off the page and evaporated in grey streaks like objects and people had been doing for days. The book was emptying itself of the words Carson remembered. He was left holding a book of white space with infrequent words like permittivity and infinite plane. Carson sighed deeply. Without Rodney, or some other walking physics dictionary, all the physics books in the world were useless.

"So it's just me and my brain," Carson said to no one. "All right, then. I'll just find another way."

What that other way might be, Carson couldn't guess. In his experience, it was Rodney's genius mind or Colonel Sheppard's bravery that saved the day. Both men were out of commission now. For the first time, a sense of fear settled in Carson's chest.

_What if I can't get ever leave?_

A reflection of rippling water shone against the window, and Carson stared forlornly at the glass. So the landscape had changed again. He hadn't recognized the mountainous terrain by name, but it had obviously been too familiar to him. The pattern of the water, though, was strange, like it was moving vertically instead of horizontally.

In the distance, he heard a woman frantically shouting his name. He wondered which forgotten acquaintance it might be. Intellectually, Carson knew it didn't really matter. Whoever she was, for whatever reason she was shouting, she was only in his head. But he couldn't stand here wallowing in self-pity while someone needed his help; he wasn't made that way.

By the time he reached the bottom step of the porch, the woman had arrived in front of the guest house. When he saw her, his heart lurched. She was a red-haired Hoffan woman, and her shouts were cries of fear. Stalking after her was a faceless soldier Wraith.

"No," Carson breathed.

His memory had loosed a Wraith on everyone here! He had no weapons to defend the woman, or himself for that matter. There was only one way to save the woman. He had to remember her. Carson focused on her face and searched his memory of the time he'd spent on Hoff. One by one, people and places around him vanished. The Wraith stalked towards the woman, each second bringing her closer to a horrible death.

Then, when the Wraith was within arm's reach, Carson found her in his memories. She was an assistant in the Hoffan medical lab, but he'd only had eyes for Perna. The Wraith stared at the empty space in front of him for a beat, and then turned and departed in the other direction.

"What …?"

Carson had never seen a Wraith behave that way. Utterly confounded, he made for the guest house once more only to find Jennifer standing behind him. She walked forward slowly, as if allowing him time to form the questions he wanted to ask. When he didn't say anything, she spoke first.

"The Atrium is designed to motivate residents towards ascension, especially when an outsider is trying to interfere. You refuse ascension because you don't want to leave behind the people you love, so The Atrium is … motivating you."

"By sending a Wraith after innocent people?" Carson demanded.

"Not people. Memories."

"You said you wouldn't try to stop me!"

"The AI is only one part of the program. I can't change the purpose of the room."

Carson gazed in the direction the Wraith had gone. There was next to no chance of his ever remembering that particular faceless Wraith. It was still out there somewhere, and it would keep preying on his memories until he gave in and tried to ascend. He needed to come up with that ingenious escape plan soon.

"Especially when an outsider is trying to interfere," Carson repeated. "How can anyone … oh, my God!"

The vertical rippling water was the event horizon of a wormhole!

"Elizabeth!" Carson shouted. "Elizabeth, we're here! It's some mad Ancient technology—"

He broke off abruptly. The rippling reflection was gone. Whether The Atrium had removed it because he remembered it, or if Elizabeth had ended the connection, he couldn't know. Carson turned to Jennifer, who was looking at him with such empathy she might have been a real person.

"I'm sorry, Carson. She didn't hear you. You weren't even seeing the real wormhole she used to check in. It was only one of the many event horizons you've forgotten."

Carson lowered himself onto the porch and buried his head in his hands. Jennifer placed her small hand on his back a moment later. Like everything here, she felt real, but it was all false, just a trick of technology.

And that was when the ingenious escape plan occurred to Carson.


	7. Seven

**All Your Memories of Here**

Seven

The weeks passed slowly. Carson worked with Jennifer in whatever hospital or aid station they could find. He came running when the forgotten Wraith attacked his memories. Over the course of days, it turned into the only routine possible in the ever-shifting place simply called _here_.

Carson was a patient man. Each day, he watched and waited for the perfect moment to execute his escape plan. He said nothing about his idea, but the Ancients had an advanced and perceptive AI system.

"You've planned something," Jennifer noted. They were standing over an operating table closing an incision. The appendectomy was second nature to Carson and Jennifer. He assumed the real Jennifer would also find it a simple procedure.

"Aye."

"Then why are you waiting so long? Have you reconsidered ascension?"

"No, love, I haven't. There are certain … items I need for my plan to work. I can't very well collect them and stash them some place. Then I'd remember them, and they'd be gone when I went back."

Jennifer's laugh was muffled by her surgical mask. "You're a clever one, Carson, that's for sure. You wouldn't believe what Rodney is trying to do right now."

Carson didn't look up from the patient's abdomen, but he was surprised to hear Jennifer mention his friend. She was probably someone else in Rodney's mind right now. He imagined the physicist wasn't handling the situation well.

"The wound is closed. Will you take him to recovery?" Jennifer asked an intern. Carson felt terrible that after three weeks he'd still been unable to remember that particular doctor. Jennifer looked up and removed her mask. "And you think your plan will succeed?"

"Aye, I do."

Carson said nothing else. The Ancient device clearly had access to his mind, but he wasn't sure if it would be able to adapt itself if it thought someone had found a loophole. He was worried Jennifer's AI might be the conduit for that information. She didn't push the issue, just as she hadn't pushed him into ascension.

The key to Carson's plan was locating enough of the right item. It was difficult to find a large quantity of anything here where everything was forever changing, but he held out hope that one day enough lorazepam would show up. God knew he'd given enough doses of the anxiolytic in Atlantis alone.

Anxiety tended to be a common side effect when one worked in a galaxy full of life-force sucking aliens. The drug Carson used to treat that anxiety had a side effect of its own. The amnesic effect of lorazepam was legendary among Atlantis personnel who often woke up with no idea what had happened to them. Carson was counting on that same thing happening to him.

The Atrium caused everything he had forgotten to materialize here. So if he forgot The Atrium itself, it should materialize around him. Carson was betting everything on a long shot. But wasn't that what the Atlantis Expedition always did?

His plan wasn't without plenty of danger. The dosage he would need to cause total temporary amnesia was high, much higher than Carson would prescribe to any of his patients. He might wake up in The Atrium so sedated he wouldn't remember to enter is IDC … or he could experience severe respiratory failure … or about a dozen other scenarios could happen. Carson knew the risks, and he considered them all acceptable. If his plan failed, it would be only his life lost. But if it succeeded, he would have a way to save all of his friends.

The right dosage of lorazepam didn't materialize for another fortnight.

"Just sit tight, love," Carson said to his patient.

He used the keycard to open one of the hospital's many supply closets and saw the vials of lorazepam on the shelf. Carson glanced behind at the patient perched on the exam table. Much as he wanted to return and treat her infection, he knew if he left the lorazepam now, it would be gone when he returned.

"She's a memory, Carson," he chided himself. "Rodney, Colonel Sheppard, Teyla, Ronon … they're _real_."

He took the vials and a syringe from the shelf and hurried into a private examination room. Carson prepped the sedative and hopped onto the gurney. He was about to inject himself with enough sedative to down a bloody elephant, and he didn't want to be standing up when it kicked in.

"Here goes … everything."

With the needle in his vein, Carson pushed down the plunger. He mused that the "little pinch" he always warned patients of hurt a lot more than he remembered. And then the world faded to black.

When he came to, two women were speaking to him. They spoke together, yet at great distances from each other. To Carson's ears, they sounded like sounded like instant echoes of each other. Through the fog of the lorazepam, everything sounded muffled, like he was submerged in a delightfully warm ocean.

"Dr. Beckett … _Dr. Beckett_ … Can you hear me? … _Can you hear me?_ Carson … _Carson_ … Please respond … _Please respond_ …"

The light of the rippling waves danced over his face. Carson's eyelids fluttered, open and shut, open and shut. One moment, he was weightless and swimming in a clear blue sea. The next, he was falling into grey abyss.

"… Dr. Weir … _Dr. Keller_ … Carson, wake up! … _Carson, wake up!_"

Under the heavy sedation of the lorazepam, Carson entered a strange dreamscape. Talking rings full of water … hospitals where objects flew away at will … rooms full of living statues.

"_Please, we need you!_ … Please, we need you!"

Carson struggled against the dreams, fighting to master the oppressive reaction to the sedative, but it was too strong. His eyes slipped closed, and he slept.


	8. Eight

**All Your Memories of Here**

Eight

A blurry white room appeared around Carson as his eyes struggled open. A young doctor with light brown hair leaned over his bed and fiddled with the instruments behind the headboard. When she saw he was awake, a tragic expression crossed her face.

"Oh, Carson," she breathed.

"What … where …?"

His voice was slushy and incoherent. The words sounded more like sleepy hums than questions. The woman placed a gentle hand on his forehead.

"Sleep, Carson. Close your eyes and sleep. For you own good, Carson, don't fight it."

It was too easy to give in to her demands. His eyelids were heavy, and the world didn't make sense. It lurched and pitched; everything grew bright and then dimmed. It was easier to dream.

o o o

Something whirred and clicked in his ear. The warm ocean dreamscape expanded to include a new sea creature. It struggled through the water. It's boxy frame and heavy metallic body wasn't made for swimming. Carson decided its species was called MALP.

"He's awake again! Maintain the wormhole as long as possible, Zelenka!" the MALP said.

"So … you're a lass MALP, then," the Scotsman mumbled. The MALP had an American voice, and it was quite feminine with an old fashioned quality. "Good MALP. We'll call you Elizabeth."

"Yes, Carson! It's Elizabeth."

"Glad you like … it, love."

o o o

The young doctor had returned. She smiled sadly and shook her head.

"No, Carson. _Sleep_."

o o o

He awoke to darkness. The ocean disappeared, and he was falling into the grayness again. His new friend, the MALP called Elizabeth, fell with him into a gray chasm.

Carson stirred. He lay on a flight of stairs leading down from the Stargate. His legs felt heavy from the rush of blood, but his head swam in dizziness. His vision was blurry; he couldn't blink away the sleep. Slowly, he worked his legs into a sitting position and ground his fists into his eyes. Darkness encroached at the edges of his vision.

He saw Ronon and Teyla standing at the bottom of the stairs, and sighed in relief.

"Thank goodness. Ronon, Teyla, where are we?"

They said nothing. They did not even acknowledge him with a cursory glance. Brow furrowed, Carson turned to where Rodney hovered. He was surprised to see the physicist's precious tablet computer had fallen to the ground, but Rodney didn't seem to care or even notice. Craning his neck, he saw Colonel Sheppard lying on the floor, his legs frozen as if in mid-step.

"What is going on?" Carson asked.

He tried to take a step, but his legs buckled and he crashed to the floor again. The dizziness and weariness threatened to overcome him. His eyelids fluttered, and his body relaxed. Sleep sounded so good.

"No!"

He had tried to shout, but it had come out muttered. He had to report back to Elizabeth. Wherever they were, something had gone wrong. Carson didn't know how long he had been asleep or what was wrong with him. Elizabeth needed to know to send a rescue team.

His legs wouldn't work properly. His brain told them to move, but they just lay there. Fighting against his own body's reluctance, Carson crawled down the stairs to the DHD. It took every ounce of his effort to hold himself upright and punch in Atlantis's address.

When the wormhole swooshed to life, Carson stumbled backwards. He lay looking up at a meditating woman. The grayness around him flashed to white, like a moment of static on the television. He blinked, blinded from the bright light.

"Carson!" a woman's voice shouted. "Carson, is that you?"

"Aye," he answered wearily.

"Come through the Stargate, Carson. We've lowered the shield." He raised his arm and punched in his sequence of numbers on the GDO. "Carson, we've already lowered the shield. You can come through the Stargate."

"Aye," he replied again. "But I'll just take a wee short sleep first."

Elizabeth, the MALP, rolled over to him and extended her strange mechanical claw. She pushed his shoulder, like he was a boy staying in bed too long on a school day. Carson swatted at the arm.

"All right, all right," he grumbled.

Pushing himself up from the ground took so much effort. He clung to Elizabeth's sturdy metal body, and she rolled to the Stargate beside him. Before he walked through the ring of water, he turned and whistled at the MALP.

"Come on, Elizabeth. That's a good MALP, come through the Stargate."

The MALP didn't speak for a long moment. "Okay … I'll be right behind you, Carson."

Satisfied, the doctor stumbled through the Stargate. A medical team was waiting on the other side. Carson had no sooner staggered into Atlantis than he was lifted onto a gurney. As they wheeled him out of the gate room, details of the previous few hours trickled into Carson's mind. He struggled against the hands holding him down.

"I need to speak to Elizabeth!"

"Umm … Dr. Weir or the MALP?" Major Lorne quipped.

"I'm here, Carson," Elizabeth said, throwing a warning look at the Major.

"They're all trapped … by a memory recall device." Carson's eyes fell closed, but snapped open an instant later. "Use lorazepam to induce temporary memory loss."

There was no reply. He was alone in the infirmary. Carson sighed, understanding that an instant to his sluggish mind could be hours or days for everyone else. There was the sound of footsteps approaching down a long corridor, and then Carson fell into another dream. In this one, he was searching out the forgotten woman who had been his only companion for the past six weeks.

"… find Dr. Jennifer Keller."


	9. Nine

**All Your Memories of Here**

Nine

Sunset cast orange shadows through the windows of the Atlantis infirmary. The nurses had clustered together the beds of their five patients in for observation. After the dinner trays were dropped off, the medical staff retreated as quickly as their legs could carry them. These past three days had tested their patience and professional ethics to the limit.

"Why don't they like me?" Rodney wondered. When no one offered an explanation, he turned his attention to his jell-o cup. "Oh, come on! Yellow again? I asked for _blue_."

"You know," Colonel Sheppard observed, barely glancing up from his Nintendo DS, "we really need to stop bumbling into Ancient ascension traps. Do you have any idea how much of this year I've wasted on their little experiments?"

"I am not sure I would call our time in The Atrium a waste," Teyla reflected. "We emerged with clear memories of people and places we had long since forgotten."

"Speak for yourself," Ronon groused.

"Before we go through the Stargate, we need to seriously consider if Janus might have had anything to do with whatever is on the other end. If he has, we avoid it. It's a new rule," Rodney decreed.

"I think I make the rules," Sheppard countered.

"Actually, I think Elizabeth does."

"You just made a rule," Ronon observed. "We can too."

"How about a rule that Rodney can't make any more rules?"

Carson remained silent while the others debated. A smile flashed over his lips. This was one of those times when he found the bickering good entertainment. Sheppard and Rodney were bouncing verbal jabs back and forth when Elizabeth entered to check on their progress.

"_Rodney_ …" Elizabeth said threateningly.

Hovering several paces behind Elizabeth was a nervous young woman with light brown hair and warm, friendly eyes. Carson pushed himself into a sitting position, but he didn't dare get out of bed. Colonel Sheppard and Ronon were complaining incessantly about their situation anyway. If he so much as put one foot on the floor, they'd take it as an excuse to bolt.

"I'd like to introduce our newest recruit," Elizabeth said, motioning behind her. "This is the doctor Carson _demanded_ I bring to Atlantis, Jennifer Keller."

There was a friendly round of welcomes, but none as enthusiastic as Carson's. He didn't recall even asking Elizabeth to hire Jennifer, much less demanding it, but he couldn't deny he was happy to see her here.

"To be honest, I was stunned that you'd remember me," Jennifer said uncertainly. "I'm really honored that you want to work with me. And I can't believe I'm … _here_."

She motioned around at the infirmary, but Carson knew she meant Atlantis and the Pegasus galaxy.

"Aye, and if you're anything at all like me, love, you'll be quite happy right here."

**The End**


End file.
